


You'll Never Admit It

by liamthebastard



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, Post Reichenbach-ish, Sad, seriously I just keep doing shit to these poor guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:18:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamthebastard/pseuds/liamthebastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You had a chance, once, to tell him. You had a hundred chances when you think about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Never Admit It

You’ll never admit it to him, the way he’s captured you so quickly and ensnared your mind. The way you find yourself wanting, _needing_ , his approval. How it hurts when you don’t get it, or you disappoint him somehow, and he makes that face, the one that cuts straight through your armor. You’ll never admit it, because he can never know.

You had a chance, once, to tell him. You had a hundred chances when you think about it. All the mornings he insisted you eat, the times he forced tea upon you when you wouldn’t touch the toast, the nights he spent scouring the flat to make certain you were clean. The times he saved your life. 

But then things changed. First there was the Woman, and then Moriarty, and things simply got away from you. You had no other choice, or so you tell yourself. You retreated, running from your feelings towards him as you did everything else that resembled happiness. You didn’t deserve it, you didn’t deserve him, and you repeated that to yourself as a mantra. Excuses, all of it, just because you wouldn’t admit you were terrified. 

And then, you blew any chance you might have had to Kingdom Come. St. Bart’s rooftop, the sky an angry grey that promised rain later on. You knew there was a chance your plan would fail, and that you very well might die on that day. And still you wouldn’t speak of your feelings. Instead, you forced him to watch you die. Would it truly have been so hard to say those words to him before you fell? To let him know that he was the one bright spot in a universe of darkness? Of course not, but you wouldn’t allow yourself that sort of solace.

So here you stand, with him by your side once more. You’ve been back for a time, and things might look like they’re all right, but you know they aren’t. He turns to you, grins. There was a time when only you could make him smile like that. That time is dead and gone.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice not concealing his excitement. You give a nod and fake a smile for him. If he notices, he doesn’t comment. You try to make an effort; this is his day and you must make it special for him, even if you never let the words cross your lips.

Just for a moment, you let the sentence sit on your tongue, toying with the idea of speaking them.

You love him.

The bride steps down the aisle. 

You let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in Second Person in... Honestly don't remember the last time, so if I made any errors, please, let me know!


End file.
